Louder Than Words
by The Tomato Queen
Summary: Lovino Vargas perfectly enjoyed his reclusive job as an author. That is, until he meets Antonio, an overly happy popstar who just doesn't know how to shut up. Like every good love story, they slowly fall in love, but when Lovino realizes their relationship is starting down a dangerous path that cannot be stopped he begins to wish he'd never written his best seller.
1. Chapter 1

Hey guys! I am so pumped for this new story! I really hope that you guys like it. It's kind of a twist on a typical love story. Basically Lovino is a reclusive little shit and Antonio is his usually oblivious self. I know it sounds kind of vague in the title but that is for a reason! I want the plot twist to be twisty ;) So yea, I hope you enjoy this because I really like this story. I originally wrote it for the Larry Stylinson community but I thought it would work better for Spamano.

* * *

_Hungary forlornly glanced at her pin stripe clad beau, wind tumbling through her auburn locks, as he stole one last furtive look at her before boarding the train. The scent of citrus was strong and it reminded her of the day her and Austria met at the quaint fruit market in Vienna. Everything had been perfect that day and he had looked so tall and handsome in his dark tan suit pants and crisp white button down with a cravat, coffee colored locks styled just so. The minute the nation locked his luscious violet eyes on her, she knew she'd found 'the one'. But now, as she watched the speeding train leave her standing alone on the platform she realized she…_

"What? What did she realize?" Lovino Vargas thought aloud, the tip of his feathered quill stroking his creased eyebrows. Nothing about this newest story seemed right. The female was too dependent. The man was too caught up in his work. Everything screamed 'stereotypical' and stereotypes weren't what made up a work of literary genius.

With a heavy sigh, the young man pushed the wooden chair back from the desk he'd been writing on and stood up. Pins and needles plagued his legs as the blood rushed back into them. Lovino winced and tried to massage the feeling away.

How long had he been sitting there? He hadn't even noticed the vast amount of time flying by, and yet his story was still unsatisfactory. At this point, he'd been attempting to write the first chapter for over a week and nothing was clicking. The author found fault with every minor detail, so much that it was driving him slightly insane. What could he say? He was a perfectionist.

Steam rose from the cup of peppermint tea Lovino cradled in his grasp, the sharp scent rising up to engulf his nostrils. He strode purposefully over to the tall window draped in purple velvet curtains and gazed longingly out the window at the dense forest. Foliage completely encircled the small house he lived in for it was a good barricade against unwanted paparazzi and people in general.

The brunette man had always been a bit of a recluse, even in his younger years, and being a professional author only helped to aid in his reserved ways. Sometimes he would go as far as spending months holed up in his hidden abode, refusing contact with anyone whatsoever, including his closest friends.

Lovino simply just didn't enjoy people. There was just something infinitely more enticing about spiraling words on a page than a shifty vocal conversation. Words could be molded and manipulated into whatever his creative brain desired. But humans? They were unpredictable… at best.

"You are one messed up person," the author darkly laughed to himself, tearing his hazel orbs away from the forest scene and pacing back to his chestnut stained writing desk. It was sickly humorous how he'd devoted his entire life to conjuring up fantastical scenarios about creatures he despised.

What even made him so enthralled with his work? Wouldn't it make sense for someone who disliked his own species to want nothing to do with them? Perhaps, though, Lovino enjoyed the level of control it gave him over people. In stories, the characters were at his beck and call, doing only what he wanted them to and nothing was questioned or spontaneous. Yet, also, the man fancied writing silly romance novels because it gave him the sense of actual love in a world that so lacked it.

Ding-dong. The trill of the too-loud doorbell resonated throughout the bungalow, causing Lovino to jump in slight shock. He wasn't expecting anyone today, but then again, if his mind guessed right, he already knew who it was. With a quick glance at the flip calendar on the desk, he determined that it had been close to a month without seeing his brother. He understood that he needed to spend more time with the lad, but now was not good. Hungary was just divorced by Austria, for God's sakes. How could he leave the plot hanging like that?

The gold-eyed author padded down the dimly lit hallway, feet slapping slightly on the hardwood flooring. When he reached the door, he carefully pried open the little peephole in the center, garnering a quiet creak while doing so. Sure enough, he could see trademark curl that matched his own jutting off to one side. His vocal chords emitted a noise of dissatisfaction and he stepped back, letting the door swing open.

"Brother! Its been ages since I've seen you," Feliciano exclaimed in his lilting higher pitched voice. The other man shrugged, leaning on the door frame.

"I know," was all he responded with. The unexpected visitor crossed his arms, sporting a pleasantly annoyed expression.

"Then let's do something! Seriously, you spend way too much time cooped up in this place. It'll be good for you to get away from your writing. Come on, let's go grab some drinks."

"Now really isn't the best of times, Feli," Lovino disclosed, keeping his irritation from seeping into his tone. The bitter fall air was whipping around him and causing his dark hair to tumble everywhere.

"What!" Feliciano yelped, clearly offended, "Why? It's not like your characters can't wait." The author slowly sighed.

"It's not that. It's just, the characters aren't good enough, the plotline is going nowhere and… you know what? Just forget about it. You wouldn't understand."

"Don't understand? Brother, if anything, it's you who doesn't understand. There is way more to this world than those stories of yours. It isn't healthy to sit in there writing all day. Human interaction never killed anyone," Feliciano argued, pleading with his eyes. The author pinched the bridge of nose and started to close the door.

"Sorry, but I just can't hang out today," he asserted with finality and promptly shut the door without waiting for a response.

However, as he traipsed back into the den the sounds of his saddened brother floated from behind the barrier. Eventually, the noises stopped and Lovino heard the footfalls going away from his house meaning that Feliciano had finally left. Everyone always did in the end.

Now with a renewed interest and concentration, Lovino plopped down on his chair, picked up his peacock-feathered quill, dipped it in the nearby pot of ink, and pressed it to the page. After crossing out everything he'd previously written, the paper was almost as good as new and ready for a new tale to bloom upon it. All the author had to do was put his creativity to work, which was easier said than done. He bit his pale lip and set to do the task at hand.

_With a vehement flip of her chesnut coloured hair, Hungary strode down the cobblestone…_

Lovino shook his head vigorously, scratching out the last line he'd written. It was too characteristically female.

_With a determined toss of her cascading blonde hair, Hungary strode…_

Scratch. He liked her better as a brunette.

_With a determined toss of her chesnut coloured hair, Hungary strode down the Vientiane cobblestone street searching for…_

Scratch. Cobblestone was too cliché for a romance novel.

_With a determined toss of her chestnut coloured hair, Hungary strode down the…_

Scratch. Did he even want to write about Hungary and Austria anymore? With a long, exasperated cry of frustration, Lovino let his head fall into his arms, espresso coloured starnds strewn haphazardly on the desk top. Finishing this story was going to be a lot more difficult than he'd imagined.

* * *

"Chill out! I'm just going to say hi to the fans. They've waited all day for us. They deserve at least a few minutes of our time."

"Yeah, but Antonio, we're in the middle of-,"

"Nope. There are no buts about it. I'm going to talk to them and that's final."

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo walked out of the recording booth where'd he'd just been singing with his band mates, letting the glass door slam firmly behind him. Shouts of protests from Francis and Gilbert could be heard behind him, but he paid no heed whatsoever. The fans demanded attention from them and he was going to give them exactly what they wanted. What else could he do? He was a natural people pleaser.

He and the other two members of the hit boyband, The Bad Touch Trio, were currently recording their third studio album. They'd become known by slowly working their way up the ranks Hollywood from performing in seedy night clubs to selling out arenas. The Bad Touch Trio reached ultra popularity around two years ago, and they were still riding the wave of fame. To be honest, the twenty-six year old enjoyed every second of his time in the band, but, as always, fame came with a price.

Because of their main-stream success, the group had basically been bombarded with fans left and right trying to talk to them or even just be followed by them on Twitter. Eventually it had become so bad that their management put a full halt on all direct communication. They'd taken over their Twitter accounts, directed how the men acted in public, and even decided whom they could and couldn't date. This had been nothing more than an annoyance until the fans complained that the girls never talked to them anymore. Antonio felt awful about the lack of contact, for the fans were the only reason they were still singing, and brought it upon himself to appease their unhappiness.

Cheering thundered in his ear as he stepped out into the sea of faces packed outside of the studio. Like usual, he shone a cheeky smile and swooped his perfect dark curls just so. That always got a huge reaction from the fans. He swore he'd go deaf someday because of the adoring masses.

"Guys, guys calm down! There's no need to get so excited about a dork like myself," the singer explained, happiness shining in his green eyes, but that only exacted a louder response from the crowd, "Ok, fine, but I still don't see what the big deal is!"

For the next hour, Antonio took more pictures and signed more autographs than he previously thought was humanly possible. At one point, he looked back and noticed that his band mates had joined him in the mass of people and were interacting with their fans as well. That brought a large smile onto his tanned face. Francis and Gilbert may not have agreed with how he went about it, but at least they joined him in the end.

"Alright that's all for now, but thank you so much for coming out to see us!" Antonio acknowledged the adoring fans as he retreated up the steps of the studio. In the large span of time, the three men managed to cover almost the entire crowd, stopping to talk to every person even if was just a simple hello.

"Check our web page for updates on how the new album is going," Francis invited while tying his striking blonde hair into a ponytail. Gilbert gave the tail a playful tug on the end of it. Francis just stuck out his tongue before disappearing behind the glass door with the silver haired man in tow.

Once safely back inside, Antonio flopped onto the black leather couch situated just outside the recording booth. He let his droopy eyelids flutter shut for a moment, and then opened them to find two extremely incensed figures glaring down at him. The tired man sat up a bit straighter and raised his thin arms in a questioning gesture.

"I can't believe you… well, we just did that," France fumed, raking a hand through his blonde bangs, "Ludwig is so going to murder us later."

"It really wasn't that smart of a decision," Gilbert backed his friend up. Antonio simply rolled his sultry eyes and settled back into the sinfully comfortable upholstery. Their boss and Gilbert's little brother, Ludwig Beilschmidt, and his team didn't scare him in the least.

"Guys, we've been in this group for six years now. Its high time we get to do what we want without answering to Ludwig."

"It doesn't matter how old or famous we are. He still has the last word in what we do. You being the oldest should respect that," Gilbert countered, "Besides, as punishment he'd probably take away our supply of beer for ever. We can't have that happening, now can we?"

"I don't have to respect anything if I don't approve of it," Antonio quipped, looking at Francis for support. Francis held up his hands defensively, not wanting to get in the middle of a fight. Gilbert growled in anger, then took deep breaths to settle down.

"I can't record in this state. I need a break to calm down," he complained, "And I think you need to cool down as well, Antonio. Here, read a book or something." The singer trained his sight on the book Gilbert was gesturing to. It was small but thick and was lying amongst a pile on the coffee table in front of him. A disgusted look displayed on his features, the popstar snatched up the book and laughed mercilessly.

"Love Never Dies by Lovino Vargas?" he scoffed, "Oh God, this sounds like some sappy rom-com. I may be gay but there's no way I'm reading this crap." Gilbert attempted and failed to hold back a snicker before dramatically stomping out of the room.

"Just try it out. Maybe you'll find out you actually like it," he called out over his shoulder, voice diminishing the further away he traveled. Antonio wrinkled his nose, appalled at the suggestion.

"No thanks. Some things just aren't for me."

And with that, the singer threw the book back onto the coffee table without a second's glance at it.

* * *

So yea! First chapter finished. I'll update every few days, and if you liked this please leave feedback! Seeing your guys's responses to my stories really make my day and make it that much more fun to write :)


	2. Chapter 2

Wooohoooo new update! I just want to say thank you so much for the amazing feedback I received from the first chapter! I'm so glad you all are enjoying this! Because I'm having so much fun writing it :) Just a btw, Emma is Belgium and no I don't hate her I promise, I just kinda needed someone to fit the bubbly, airhead TV personality role and she was who I decided to throw under the bus :/ oh well, enjoy ^_^

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"Today we have with us the renowned author of the most creative best-selling book of the decade 'Love Never Dies'. At only twenty-one years of age, he is one of the youngest authors ever to reach this status of popularity. He is here now to speak to us about his newest endeavor. Yes, folks, you guessed it. It's Lovino Vargas!"

The author briskly strolled onto the stage upon hearing his name announced. Clapping and whistling resounded from the audience seated before him. Everyone was going crazy as the famous writer made his way to the overstuffed maroon chair that was currently empty and took a seat after shaking the female TV personality's hand.

"Always a pleasure, Emma," Lovino replied, charmingly batting his eyelashes in a manner that was seductive enough to make people fall in love with him, but not so much that it made him seem ridiculous. The interviewer took a moment to drastically react by poofing her strawberry-blonde curls and placing a dainty hand over her lacquered lips.

"Well aren't you just the ladies man," she joked, playfully hitting him on the arm. The author merely lifted his shoulders sheepishly and sank into the massive chair.

"Alright, before we start in on your upcoming novel, let's talk a bit about your previous one," Emma continued, producing a copy from the table between them, "In this book's first week of being released it sold over a million copies worldwide. Did you ever think it would grow to be this popular?"

"To be honest, no. I mean, when you're writing you have hopes that everyone will love it and it'll go over well but you can never really tell how well its going to do. Fortunately, people seemed to like it so that's always a plus!" the author smiled, his honey-toned orbs twinkling. He was always happiest when talking about his work. The petite woman displayed the cover to the audience before setting it back down.

"For those of you who haven't already read it, 'Love Never Dies' is a masterfully creative story that personifies the nations of the world as actual people. This tale is between the personifications of Spain and South Italy, who is called Romano is the novel to distinguish him from his northern brother. Romano, like the nation he portrays, is extremely insecure and withdrawn from people. He falls into the hands of Spain, an outgoing former empire trying to hold his country together the best he can. He is carefree and living life to its full extent. As they progress through history together, they help each other see life through the other's eyes. Romano keeps Spain grounded while Spain teaches Romano to love. Viewers, this is not your average love story. There are some pretty crazy twists in there that you don't want to miss, but I won't give them away. So, Lovino, what inspired you to write this anyways?"

The man paused a moment to scratch the back of his head before delving into his answer.

"To be honest, I originally wanted to write about the deep-rooted fascination between Germany and Italy, but I can't stand Germans so that option was tossed out quickly." At this the audience responded with the appropriate chuckling. "But I've always thought this type of relationship would be beautiful: two lovers saving each other when they didn't even know they needed to be saved. There's something alluring in that. As for them being nations, I wanted to write the plot throughout a lot of history and making them nations seemed to fit," he revealed.

"Of course, of course," Emma nodded, "And now, you've managed to think up another brilliant plot that you're writing. Could you give us any hints as to what this new story will be about?"

"Erm, well, it is about another pair of nations but it's a bit complicated at the moment" Lovino grimaced, shifting in the plush chair, "But basically its about a love triangle between Hungary, Austria, and Prussia alluding to the Austro-Hungarian empire but set in modern times. Obviously, that can't end well but I haven't really hashed out the finer points or anything. Sorry to disappoint."

"No, its completely fine! Besides, a good author never reveals their secrets, right?" she winked.

The audience rolled in laughter and Lovino gave a half smile but his judging eyes betrayed his true emotions. He wished he could just get this interview over with already so he could go home and indulge himself in words. People were so simple-minded sometimes. Emma's 'joke' wasn't humorous in the least.

"Something like that," Lovino condescendingly smirked, leaning on his elbow.

"Phew, that was a right laugh," the interviewer squeaked while pretending to wipe fake tears from the corner of her eyes. Oh, television. Always one for pointless dramatics. "Anywho, moving right along! We now know everything there is about this man's books, past and future, but how much do we know about the author himself? Who is the real Lovino Vargas? Find out after this commercial break!"

One minute, Emma was all grins and positivity but the second that the cameramen yelled 'clear' her nice façade washed away and was replaced by a sour-attitude. With one snap of her fingers, a team of make-up and hair staff was immediately at her side touching up her powder and re-coloring her already perfect lips. She yelled for someone to bring her water and complained when it wasn't 'the expensive one from the glass bottle'.

Lovino was utterly appalled by her behavior. Then again, it didn't necessarily surprise him that she was so two-faced, but it was disappointing to be even further disgusted with the human race everywhere he went. The interviewer only helped to prove why he was a self-proclaimed recluse.

"Got to get my TV face back on," Emma chirped over at the author, plastering that oh-so-fake gleam on her make-up caked face. Lovino gave a noncommittal smile before looking down at his lap and shuddering. He'd spent more than enough time around horrid people today and all he craved was some solitude where no one could bother him. Unfortunately, though, he had an entire half of an interview to sit through. Why had he ever agreed to do this?

"And we are back folks!" the interviewer said in the high pitched tone she fabricated so well as the cameraman gave her the signal that they were rolling, "Before the break, I promised we would get to know Lovino Vargas, not as the author put as the person. Now its time to find out just that. So Lovino, I'm sure this is the question everyone wants to know: what do you love the most about writing?"

"Well, basically I love the amount of control I have," the author disclosed, "When I'm writing, my characters do whatever I want them to do. I always know what their next move will be and everything is precisely calculated. Nothing like real life where something could wrong in the blink of an eye. Like, when two people fall in love in my book, I know it will last, but in real life there's no telling what could happen. When I'm in control, I can decide what people are thinking, what they're doing. I could even kill them, if I want to."

After Lovino's speech he trailed off into silence, feeling everyone's gaping stare at him. What had he just done? He'd practically laid out half of his soul for the entre world to see and judge. Right from the minute he opened his mouth, the author knew he was going too far, so why hadn't he stopped? Why had he given these abominable people his innermost being for them to do whatever they please with it? Self-loathing coursed through him as he tried to think of a way to ease the awkward tension now hovering over the studio.

"Erm, I mean I like to write love stories because they're happy?" he amended sheepishly. Emma quickly recovered from her shell-shocked state with a good-natured chuckle, but the audience didn't bounce back so easily. Their glaring eyes were practically painful. It felt like a massive weight being lowered onto the young man's chest, suffocating him to the point of asphyxiation.

"Next question then," the interviewer said, smoothly seguing into another topic, "Can you tell us about your love life? Someone who writes stories like you do must have people throwing themselves at you. I'm sure it also doesn't hurt that you're a looker too." The author blinked once, brushed his locks to the side, and then frowned.

"No, I don't. I've never even been in love before."

"Not even once?" the astonished woman probed, curiosity burning in her green eyes.

Lovino's own eyes widened once he realized what he'd just revealed over national television. Fuck, what was wrong with him today? Couldn't he keep his head on straight for one measly interview? God, he was so rusty with social interaction that keeping his damn mouth shut was a gargantuan feat.

"Well, I'm sure I have at some point but I've never found 'the one'," Lovino effortlessly lied to cover up the huge personal secret.

"Mmm I see. Well unfortunately, that's all we have time for this morning! Thank you so much for joining us, Lovino. Be sure to stay tuned as we interview the chart-topping pop group, The Bad Touch Trio, coming up next!"

The camera panned away from Emma and the happy persona fell away, just like last time. The author briefly nodded his thanks to her before arising from the gaudy, plush chair and making his way backstage where several crew members were bustling around trying to prepare everything during the commercials. After dodging two burly men moving a rather large lighting screen and making sure no one was near, he slammed a fist down on the sturdy prop table in fury.

Since when had he become chummy enough with the general public to decide that it was perfectly fine to share his deepest secrets with them? He'd been too caught up in the moment, his mind was elsewhere, and no thinking had occurred before he opened his mouth. For the most part, Lovino was phenomenal at filtering out what he deemed acceptable to let others knows from what was too worthy to grace the barbaric ears of the masses, but today he had slipped up.

Ok, yes, that did sound completely arrogant, which he truly wasn't but he didn't want others knowing all about him. Once people had information, they had power over him and that was something Lovino didn't want to happen. He was his own master and it was staying that way.

Like for instance, talk-show viewers didn't need to know that he had never even…

'Stop worrying about this,' Lovino mentally reprimanded himself. The past was the past and dwelling on it would only drive him to insanity. Maybe Feliciano was right. Maybe he had been spending too much time focused on writing. When he got home, the first thing he would do is call up his brother and they would go for a drink.

As the small man turned to go towards his dressing room, a figure passed by him that stole his every breath within the blink of an eye. Whipping his head around, Lovino kept his gaze following the man as he continued walking until he met up with two other people standing just off the set. The author's heart was reverberating erratically like a drum line gone mad. His hands were trembling from the rush of adrenaline. All because of one simple guy.

What was going on with him? This was crazy.

But no, this was not just a simple guy. He looked like a character that had stepped right out of one of his own stories. Perfection was written on every single feature that he possessed. The flawless skin encasing round bone structure and chiseled cheeks was bronzed to perfection. His espresso-coloured locks were styled in a manner that was just messy enough to pass as trendy. And don't even get the author started on his eyes. Those eyes were what took away his breath in the first place after locking the endless fields of green in a gaze that couldn't have lasted longer than a second.

For all purposes, this god-like man was utterly gorgeous in Lovino's eyes. After a moment of deep concentration on him, the man broke his stare, furrowing his brows in bewilderment. In all his years of writing about the finer workings of love, never had he himself felt the telltale signs. A hand fluttered to his chest, feeling the palpitating heart beat with the cavity. He was beyond dumbfounded why this would be happening to him now when he didn't even know the man that passed by. But perhaps, after all this time of being lonely he'd managed to stumble across what he had been looking for. Perhaps, he'd found 'the one'.

Lovino made the decision to stay behind stage a while longer just to find out a little bit more about his person of interest. Being a writer, he could easily discern a lot of his personality by the way he presented himself. From what Lovino could tell, the man was quite relaxed today yet had some hidden tension built up inside. The goofy way he communicated with the other people near him suggested he was a bit of a jokester. His… wait, where was he going? Why was he walking on stage?

As the doe-eyed man continued forward, Lovino also moved in sync with him. There was almost a gravitational pull edging him onwards, pushing him to find out more about this guy. If he was a stagehand, it didn't make sense as to why he was greeting a grinning Emma unless…

"Ladies and gentlemen, you've listened to them since the beginning, you've seen them rise to fame, and now here they are live and in studio. They are: The Bad Touch Trio!"

"Of course," the author whispered, peering at the stage from behind the massive dividers hiding the backstage area from the audience. Damn, did he feel like an idiot right now. He should have known just from the immaculate way the guy dressed that he was in a boyband. And not just any boyband. He was in the boyband that currently had everyone in the world pining after them for their cheesy mass-produced lyrics and crazy fashion sense.

Yet, there was something deep inside of Lovino that urged him to stay just a moment longer. Just to give the man a chance. Maybe he wasn't as bad as he came off to be. Leaning into the wall, the author crossed his arms and listened as the interview went underway.

"Well hello, hello! It's been a couple years since I've seen your beautiful faces on this stage," Emma started off with some playful banter. The three members chorused back their laughter in response.

"Yea, I'm pretty sure the last time we were here was just after our first album got released," the silver-haired one in the skull-and-crossbones tank-top affirmed.

"We just couldn't stay away from your pretty face darling," joked the boy who had caught his attention with a smirk. Yes, he was definitely the center of the group. As if his flamboyant pairing of tan skinny jeans and brightly patterned red and yellow jacket hadn't given that away instantly… The third person who had his shaggy blonde hair styled with gel gasped.

"Mon cher, that is my line!" the fairy-like blonde yelped, "Hmph, just ignore Antonio. He's only in the band for comical relief."

So his name was Antonio. Lovino allowed a Cheshire-cat grin to form on his face. He rather liked the way the name rolled off his tongue like melted butter. Antonio was fascinating him more with every tick of the clock.

"Boys, boys, no squabbling!" Emma playfully reprimanded, using one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her earring laden ear, "Now the reason you lot are here is to promote your newest album, Brave Young Hearts, which will be available in stores next month. The track listing has already been revealed as well as your current single Double Take. So tell me, what is your favorite song off the album and why? We'll start with you, Francis."

The blonde standing behind the chair occupied by his two other band mates pretended to scratch his stubble while thinking about his answer.

"For me, I'd have to say that Crazy For You is my favourite because it just talks about how the guy is pining for his girl but she isn't returning the love," the man, apparently Francis, responded. Emma mock winced.

"Ooh, that's always the worst. How about you, Gilbert?"

"I'd actually go with Double Take as mine," the silver-haired one admitted, "Because there'll always be that one person who will catch your attention and then you can't get them out of your mind."

"So true. And you, Antonio?" the interviewer probed.

The stunning man dramatically tilted his head, narrowing his eyes until they were barely more than slits. Gilbert tried to shove him into speaking but he held up one finger to settle his friend. Meanwhile, Lovino awaited backstage with bated breath. He couldn't wait to hear what his attraction was going to say. After all, this would be the first glimpse into Antonio's brain that the author would have.

"My favourite song of the entire album would definitely be…" Antonio slowly drug out his answer, "Take Me Away. Mainly because it's all about fiesta and having fun, nothing too serious, you know?"

Fiesta and having fun? Nothing too serious? At first, Lovino had thought the other lad's answers were cheap cop-outs, but this one? This one took the cake.

It was physically revolting how insincere Antonio's response was. To a man who lived off of poetic lines and deep meanings, it was almost a direct slap in the face. No one appreciated carefully selected terms artfully strung together into a masterpiece anymore. People like Antonio made the author want to give up his career, for his audience was simple minded humans who would only take the words at face value.

But the thing was, Antonio wasn't just another person. There was something about the enigmatic man that completely enraptured the writer. The innocent smile that graced the singer's easy-going features begged for another chance. And that's exactly what Lovino gave him, remaining right where he was behind the set divider. Surely the answer had been some attempt at a cute remark and not his actual thoughts.

"They all sound like wonderful songs I'm sure everyone will enjoy them," Emma cooed, "Speaking of love, a lot of your songs are about this wonderful emotion and serenading girls because of it. So in your own words, how would you describe love?"

"That's a good question. I don't even know if love can be described," Antonio reasoned with the interviewer. Good answer, Lovino thought, now in for the kill.

"It's basically just this fuzzy feeling you get when you're around an attractive person."

Did he hear that right? Love was a 'fuzzy feeling'? That you get when you're around an attractive person? As if Lovino hadn't felt sick earlier, he certainly did now. Who in their right mind would be shallow enough to describe love as 'a fuzzy feeling'? Antonio could've said something along the lines of 'an enigma' or even a 'bond between two people'. But no, he had chosen potentially the least heartfelt answer possible.

Shaking his head in disappointment, the author slammed a fist into the divider before storming out of the backstage area not bothering to wait in his dressing room as per instructions. Whatever hope he had in the pop-star vanished when the dolt opened his infuriatingly perfect lips. Someone as stupid as him didn't deserve the artful features that he had. It was almost a waste of beauty.

But the worst part? The worst part was that, for a moment, Lovino might just have had the capability of falling in love. He'd been so ready to tear down all barriers surrounding his hardened heart for a shot at the alluring male. Sadly, the author had let himself get tricked into giving the trivial boy a shot at ruining his happiness and, not only that, but he'd given Antonio a second chance as well. From now on, there would be round the clock security on Lovino's heart and no one, especially not some airhead from a boyband, was getting inside of it.

* * *

"For the last time, Feliciano, get away from my door or I'm calling the police on you!"

"You can't call the police on your own brother! What kind of person does that?"

"Me. Now get off my property before I make the call."

"You are being ridiculous, Brother. All I want is to hang out with you. I haven't seen you in months."

The author blew a stray strand of hair out of his eyes and slumped wearily against the door frame. An hour ago he'd come home from the studios livid and disappointed in himself and just wanting to escape the world for a while. Unfortunately for him, not even an hour later a very hyper Feliciano Vargas showed up at his door wanting company and refusing to leave until he got it.

"Why can't you leave me alone? Don't you understand that all I want is to write in solitude?" Lovino retorted, trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"You have got to stop this, Lovi, please. Your reclusiveness is getting out of control," the younger twin yelled back from the other side of the closed door. The young man bit down on his lip hard, drawing tiny pricks of blood to the surface.

"Feliciano, for the last time… GO AWAY!"

"Okay, Lovi," he responded, his tone calm and defeated, "But I wish you would realize what you're doing to yourself. Someday those stories are going to be all you'll have."

The bitter words that Feliciano spoke stabbed at the author's heart, making him think twice. He fumbled around until his hand latched onto the cold, brass doorknob and he swung open the massive, black painted front door.

"Wait, Feli, I'm… Feli?" Lovino turned his gaze in all directions searching for the familiar golden eyes but his sights came up empty. It appeared that his brother had already vacated the premises.

"Fine. Whatever! I don't need you either," he bellowed to no one before banging the door shut.

His feet pounded down the hallway as he raged back to the study. That was twice today he had given people chances and twice that it had come back around to bite him in the ass. His hand grabbed at a stack of discarded papers and he flung most of them across the room. The ones still in his hands he tore to shreds before tossing the remains into the crackling fireplace in the back. Next, he raised the desk chair over his head and sent it crashing into the opposite wall, leaving several dents in the plaster. Finally, he kicked the desk and everything, books, ink, trinkets, went toppling to the ground leaving an ink stain from the shattered bottle on the tan carpet.

Then Lovino stopped in his tracks, taking in all of the destruction around him. What had he just done? This wasn't who he was. The real Lovino Vargas didn't get angry like this. In fact, the real Lovino Vargas didn't show emotion at all. And most certainly, the real Lovino Vargas didn't let brainless nobodies from mainstream boybands affect them like he had done.

Where had the young man gone wrong? What happened to the strong wall he'd built up to keep the bombs and blows of life from hurting him? Never in his twenty-two years had he ever felt so vulnerable. So perhaps, that was why he chose this moment, and this moment only, to let a single tear cascade down his tanned cheek as he gazed upon his surroundings and realized just how alone he truly was.

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Poor Romano bby :( he never gets a break, eh? Review/favourite/or do whatever! You'll have my undying love and gratitude :D Oh and I think you guys will like the next chapter, just saying ;) yay for cliffhangers!


	3. Chapter 3

Wowee I can't believe how much positive feedback this is getting! I'm so glad you guys are liking it. I really think you'll like this chapter, just saying ;) But yea, thank you all so much for the feedback. It makes me happy to see it :D

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The intoxicating aroma of coffee beans mixed with bittersweet chocolate swirled through the air of the quaint coffee shop in which Lovino was currently sitting in. Everything was silent save for the chime of the little bell that announced each time a new customer came through the door, which was few and far between. That was precisely the reason why the young author chose to come here. He enjoyed the peaceful serenity found within the strong odors and small amount of people. It was like a home away from home where he could escape the confines of himself and interact with society without actually having to talk at all.

Seeing that Lovino's house wasn't exactly in the best of states after his temper fit, he thought it best to pay a visit to the coffee shop he'd been recently neglected for his reclusive ways. He sat tucked away in the same dark corner he always sat in with a stack of papers and his feather quill, multitasking jotting down lines with watching the tumultuous storm raging beyond the window panes. A warm, white sweater hung loosely off his thin frame and he sighed back into the chair, snuggling his arms around his waist to shield off some of the cold.

Today really was the perfect day for writing. The coffee kept the Italian's mind energized and creating scenarios faster than his hand could write and the steady thumping of the rain providing enough white noise to keep his over-active imagination somewhat grounded. Whenever he'd hit a mind block in his work, this shop was the always the fix. Ideas seemed to spiral from every corner when he was holed up at his table. It had even progressed so much that the owner had jokingly inscribed 'Lovino's' on the back of the chair.

With the quill tip freshly inked and his imagination full steam ahead, Lovino set the pen to the paper and let the words flow forth.

That is until the front door slammed open, letting water and cold air rush inside immediately shattering the calm atmosphere that was previously in place. A figure stepped inside, pausing to shake his soaking brunette hair, sending droplets splattering onto Lovino's pristine white pages. The author merely rolled his golden orbs in slight annoyance before returning his focus to the task at hand. It wasn't until the figure spoke that his brain paid closer attention to just whom had walked into the fateful shop.

"That's one crazy storm blowing out there, isn't it?" the man spoke walking up to the counter presumably to place an order. At the sound of his voice, Lovino's head shot up, his curiosity aroused. He recognized that voice from somewhere. The smooth tone wasn't one that was easily forgotten. The only problem was he couldn't remember where he'd heard it. Nonchalantly leaning on his left elbow, the young lad trained his hearing on their conversation in order to remember why the voice was familiar.

"You got that right. With the way the winds are blowing, you'd think it was the end of the world or something," Tino, the shop owner, laughed good-naturedly, "Now what can I get you to drink? Pick anything you like. It's on the house."

"No, I couldn't possibly just take something from you like that," the stranger responded in a shocked tone. Tino held up his hands adamantly.

"You're soaked to the bone. A free cup of coffee is the least I could do to help you warm up."

"Well alright then. Thank you very much," said the man, gratitude lacing his voice, "I'll just have a small mocha."

"Sure thing. Coming right up," the waif-like owner said and then walked off to make the drink.

By the time the conversation ended, Lovino still hadn't pieced together why the girl was familiar. He was about ready to give up and resume work on his story when the maroon sweater-clad figure turned around and he was met with the same piercing emerald eyes he'd seen the previous day. As recognition clicked in his brain, the author tried to avert his gaze but, unfortunately for him, not before the other man saw him looking.

"Hey, aren't you that author that was being interviewed yesterday?" Antonio asked, traipsing over to the brunette's self-claimed space. Lovino winced at his stupidity and pretended that he didn't hear. That didn't keep the singer from persisting in his pestering though as he stopped right in front of the younger lad's table, letting his bag plop onto the opposite chair.

"Did you hear me?" he questioned again. This time Lovino lifted his head, an innocent expression taking over his boyish features. He could no longer ignore the man now that he was… wait, why was he sitting down? Why was this random person whom he'd only ever seen one day ago sitting into the other chair at the table?

"I asked if you were that author guy who was being interviewed on television yesterday?"

"Um, yeah," Lovino nodded, a bit flustered from the unfolding situation, "Yeah that's me. The author guy." Antonio flashed his shining white teeth that contrasted perfectly against his warm skin. The younger lad couldn't help but become entranced but the sheer beauty.

"I thought you looked familiar. I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo from the Bad Touch Trio. We were interviewed right after you were," the pop-star introduced himself, holding out a hand. Lovini shook it politely and timidly smiled.

"Lovino Vargas. But yeah, I know who you are. Famous boyband and whatnot."

"Oh the perks of being famous," Antonio jokingly rolled his warm eyes. Lovino let out a giggle before casting his own eyes downward in embarrassment for what he'd just done. Not a moment later he felt a hand underneath his chin slowly titling his head back up. Electrical tremors resonated from the contact and his heart involuntarily sped up. Lovino was now locked in a gaze with the man he'd thought he'd been in love with only yesterday, a ocean of green swirling in a pool of gold.

"Chin up, Lovi," Antonio quipped, easily sliding into the use of a nickname, "I think your laugh is adorable." A smirk bloomed on the author's rosy lips.

"Shut up, bastard," he blushed and swatted Antonio's hand away.

Their playful antics were soon stopped, though, by Tino smacking down the singer's coffee on the table before him. Startled, the pair looked up and the shop owner chuckled loudly.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is Lovino Vargas actually being social?" Tino wondered aloud in a mocking tone. The author's cheeks immediately burned brighter crimson as his eyes flew wide in shock. Antonio furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"What do you mean?" he asked, darting his gaze between the two other men.

"Consider yourself lucky," Tino disclosed much to Lovino's horror, "Because you're the first person I've seen this kid talk to in months." The Italian's hands shot up to cover his steadily growing humiliation, as Antonio's confusion remained plastered on his face.

"Lovino? No, he's been a right laugh since I've sat down," the singer responded, not taking the shop owner seriously. Tino held up his hands in defense and grinned sheepishly.

"I'm serious! This is a regular spot of his and he always sits at the same table and writes away. The only other person I've seen you talk to, Lovino, is that twin of yours you come with occasionally. Other than that, not a word. But I guess being a writer makes you somewhat reclusive or something."

"You don't say," Antonio trailed off with an intrigued and somewhat puzzled expression on his visage.

At this point the silent author decided he'd had enough. It was time for this conversation to end. He removed the shielding hands from his face and trained those deadly eyes on the petite shop owner.

"Tino, stop it now," Lovino threatened in a low tone, warning rumbling deep in his throat.

"I'd s'ggest y'd stop, T'no," said the shop's other owner as he walked by, "Y'know how violn't L'vino gets when he's mad." Tino simply shrugged, recognizing the angry mood, and followed the bespectacled blonde back to the counter where another woman was waiting to have her order taken.

"Aww, you don't have to be embarrassed, Lovi," Antonio reassured him with sympathetic eyes, "It's fine if you're quiet most of the time. Quiet people are actually quite interesting when they finally open up."

"You need to leave," Lovino scowled at the table, his insecurities morphing into pure rage.

"What?"

"You need to go. Now," Lovino growled even louder to get the point across. Antonio snorted.

"I heard what you said you," he chuckled, "But why?"

Why? Why was he completely shutting down and going into hermit mode? Perhaps it was because the minute he tried to open up, he was immediately shot back down. Or perhaps it was because he was trying to write a story that his publisher wanted due by the end of the year and October was already fast approaching with not even the first chapter completed. But more than likely it was because he had just been entirely humiliated in front of the flawless man whom he had slipped into a fit of fury and trashed his house over just yesterday. And the saddest part? He still didn't know this guy. So why was he letting himself become so emotional over a stupid sack of flesh and bones?

"I don't feel like talking, bastard," Lovino mumbled, casting his gaze downwards to the blank paper before him. This annoying pop star needed to leave soon. If he didn't start producing words, his publisher will drop him faster than a hot stone.

"You can stop being defensive right now. I can see past that so easily," Antonio bluntly stated, "Don't pay any attention to the owner guy. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm by it. Don't let some misspoken words hurt you so easily. Besides, being quiet is so cute."

Lovino froze, unable to move a muscle because he'd basically just been called out. No one had ever seen past his barriers and spoken exactly what he was trying to hide. The strange singer hadn't even been here five minutes, yet had already accomplished far more than the author's friends had in several years.

The brunette coughed lightly to cover up his shock and shrugged.

"Well then if you want to stay, fine. But that doesn't mean I have to talk to you," he said and then dipped his quill into the uncapped pot of ink waiting on the right side of the table. He could feel those doe-like eyes tracking his every move as sentences began flowing onto the page, finally spinning a story that he was proud of.

In this moment, Lovino was utterly in his element. All sounds of the atmosphere around him dwindled into a distant buzz and the only thing receiving his attention were the ink-written characters blossoming to life. Creativity was spilling from every crevice of the young man's mind as the shackles of writer's block that had bound him for weeks shattered and his imagination was set wild. Moments like this was what Lovino lived for and nothing could stop him from finishing this…

"Lovino? You went quiet all of a sudden. Are you alright?"

Antonio's voice collided into the author's thoughts with the force of a steam engine. Lovino squeezed his eyes tightly shut, willing himself to stay on track. He couldn't afford to slip out of a creative streak like the one he was experiencing.

_Stay strong, Lovino. Don't pay any attention to what he's saying. It's probably irrelevant anyways. He is in a boyband after all. _

With a shake of his head, the author regained control and put the pen back to the paper. Now where was he? Ah, yes. Hungary was actually hooking up with Austria's enemy but neither of them knew it and…

"Hey, why do you use that feathery thing? There is such a thing as a ball-point pen, you know."

_Ignore him, Lovino. You're stronger than this. Concentrate on the story. What are they seeing, hearing, and feeling? Immerse them in details…_

"Can't you say something? It's getting rather boring over here," Antonio mused, pouting at the golden-eyed lad. In one fell swoop, Lovino's deep concentration cracked and he snapped his head up to glare angrily at the singer.

"For fuck's sake, could you please shut up? I'm trying to work here," he snarled, gesturing sharply to the pages before him.

"I just want some conversation!" Antonio protested, his emerald orbs widening in innocence, "I'm trying to give you genuine company." Lovino rolled his eyes.

"I never said I wanted your company," he muttered.

"Ah, but your actions speak louder than your words," Antonio smirked, "You were talking to me which, from what Tino said, is quite a giant leap for you."

The author sighed, shaking his head and several strands of dark hair fell into his face. He blew them back into place, licked his lips, and returned his gaze to the persistent man sitting opposite him. Antonio had a point and seeing as he probably wasn't going to leave until they had a proper conversation, the author would simply have to acquiesce to the situation. Besides, no matter how much he denied it, Lovino truly did enjoy talking to him.

"Alright fine," the author sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers, "You talk and if I find the topic of any worth, I'll try to respond."

"Wow, you're a right charmer, huh?" Antonio laughed, but showed no sign of annoyance, "Okay, I know this is a topic you can't resist talking about: tell me about your new story."

Lovino smiled to himself. He should've seen that one coming. Nonetheless, though, he set down the quill and good-naturedly began to explain a brief synopsis of his book in progress.

"There's this girl, well, nation really," he divulged, "I write the nations as if they were actual people. Hungary is her name and she's on this trip to Berlin to spy on the country for her own government. Except, she hates politics and government and would do anything to get away from it. Then she meets Prussia who is also a nation and he is, like, perfect in her eyes. He's carefree and hilarious and happy. Basically the complete opposite of her husband, Austria. So one night she and Prussia randomly meet at a bar together and then they go back to his place and you know the drill. They fall into this horrible no-strings-attached relationship and she loves him but she also has a husband. In the end, everything works out and they ride off into the sunset, happily ever after, yadda yadda yadda."

Lovino stopped himself short, knitting his brows together in surprise. He had no idea why he'd gone on for that long about his prototype story to Antonio. That was the most he'd spoken in quite a long time and it felt almost like dust was being blown off his vocal chords. The author hated to admit it, but it was nice to be having human interaction instead of conversing with paper and ink.

"Hmm, interesting," Antonio murmured, sending Lovino out of his thoughts. He frowned.

"Do you not like the sound of it?"

"To be honest, no," the singer truthfully answered. Lovino blinked once in utter shock. No one had ever been that blunt with him before.

"W-what? Bastard," he dumbly spluttered out.

"I'm just saying that I probably wouldn't read that," the singer reiterated, "Sorry to disappoint."

"But why? I mean, I spent forever planning this out!" Lovino yelped, hurt that someone had degraded his carefully thought out work. Antonio paused a moment to stroke his chin before answering the question.

"For one, the story-line is way too predictable. No-strings-attached? Super cliché. And the characters are stereotypical. I'm guessing Austria is tall, dark, and handsome?" Before Lovino could protest, Antonio was already carrying on with his rough analysis. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a good storyline but it doesn't scream National Best-Seller. Do something more creative, more meaningful."

Recoiling back in disgust, Lovino wrinkled his nose and let out an incensed huff. How dare some mass-produced pop star tell him that his story was stereotypical? Lovino Vargas never wrote stereotypical and his work was always beyond average. This airhead bastard didn't even have a clue what he was talking about. In fact, he was probably just jealous that his work was far less meaningful than the author's.

"Oh that's rich coming from some bubble-gum pop artist bastard," Lovino sarcastically shot back, crossing his long arms over his lanky chest. Antonio took on a dramatic pout.

"Aww Lovi, no need to be rude. I was just voicing my own opinion," he calmly tried to explain but the Italian was already done with talking.

"Your opinion is irrelevant considering you only know how to write about seducing women and getting wasted," he barked while beginning to gather the loose pages and pack up his things.

"First off, I'm not trying to seduce women. And secondly, just because I'm a pop star doesn't mean I can't be meaningful," Antonio countered, their argument escalating with every passing second. The tenseness in the air was tangible and fire was brimming in the their eyes. With a bang, Lovino pushed in his chair and stalked toward the exit.

"I can't even believe I wasted my time on someone as inconsequential as yourself," he snapped, the haughty side taking over to hide his true emotions.

Antonio slumped back into his chair, a curl flopping dejectedly into his doe-eyes. Lovino had never seen such genuine hurt displayed on a human before and it almost broke his heart to know that he was the cause of it. Yet despite the desperate emotion showed by the man, he turned back around and resumed his journey for the exit.

"You know, I'd heard stories about you before we met today," Antonio's sweet voice piped up from behind, "Everyone said you were an arrogant jerk, but I wanted to prove them wrong. I thought they were just being rude. But you know what? They were right, Lovino."

For a moment, the author's thin hand resting on the brass doorknob paused and his body motioned to turn around. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the singer and show him that he was not some reclusive snob like everyone thought he was. Never before had he cared what anyone thought of him, but the thought of Antonio having a bad opinion about him sent stabs of pain through his heart.

So for a second, he thought about returning to that gorgeous man behind him and setting everything right. That idea was soon blown to pieces when his egotistical pride took charge and forced him from turning back around. His feet moved against his will and he no longer was in control of his body. Lovino gave the knob a twist and, without a single look back, walked out of the coffee shop leaving the broken pop star behind.

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Dammit Lovi, why u no have moar patience!? Yea sorry guys, I really like angst so I hope you do too! See you next chapter :)


	4. Chapter 4

And now we get into some heavier (sorta) stuff. Its not too serious yet, I mean the setting is a club so of course its not terribly serious lol. I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the positive attention this story is getting. I never really expected you all to like it that much haha. It makes my day to see a new review or favourite or follower! So yea, keep being the awesome people you are! Oh and if there's any typos its because I have part of this prewritten but it was written with different names so now I'm editing it to fit Spamano.

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Freezing rain sharply pelted Lovino's face as he jogged over to his beat up Dodge Dart. Rivulets of water ran down the peeling grey paint, soaking the cuff of his sweater sleeve as he opened the door and stuffed himself inside. A gust of wind carried a few droplets into the car, sprinkling the steering wheel. The hazel-eyed man shook his now-damp locks and reclined back in the seat to catch his breath.

The storm outside was a perfect reflection of the chaos raging within his own heart. Everything about his mood was bitter, uninviting, and tumultuous. Deluges of rage poured into the author's mind until all he could see when he closed his eyes was a barrier of fiery red and frigid black.

Lovino could not believe his horrible luck.

What were the odds of running into Antonio the day after he had way-too-quickly fallen for him? And what were the odds of Antonio actually stopping to speak with him, let alone sit down and carry on an actual conversation that ended in a barrage of hateful blows? The odds were slim to none, but yet, it had still happened.

The dark humor of the situation caused Lovino to let out a mirthful chuckle as he let his head droop into his frosty hands. He should have known from the moment he laid his eye on that man that he would be trouble. Then again, he was a pop star so of course he would be trouble. If only he could have just come to terms with that from the start, maybe he wouldn't be sitting in a car trying to mend a broken heart.

No. His heart wasn't broken. In order to have a broken heart, he would've needed to have loved Antonio, which most certainly was not the case. What happened between the two of them was a severe case of attraction and a bit of slightly stalkerish spying. Nothing more. Although, the dull ache in his heart begged to differ.

However, Lovino dismissed all emotions with a sharp smack to his temple.

"Pull yourself together," he muttered while inserting the keys in the ignition and starting the car, "He's just some inconsequential bastard."

The old engine roared to life and Lovino revved gas once or twice to get the machine warmed up. A squealing sound permeating the air from wet tires rolling across pavement as the young man reversed the car out of the parking space and sped onto the road. It was only a two minutes drive from the coffee shop to his house, but the quicker he was away from that place, the better.

Rain washed across the windshield and the wipers carried it away as the green foliage lining the edges of the road blurred out of focus. Lovino's thoughts turned away from the road and onto his current predicament.

He needed to take his mind off of Antonio and everything dealing with relationships, including his new novel. Unfortunately, the creative streak he'd had would be wasted, but it seemed impossible to try and write while his mind was a hurricane of emotion. He hated to admit it since he'd been putting the lad off for the past month, but the best idea for him right now was to do a little catching up with none other than his brother and, quite possibly, only friend.

A frown crept onto Lovino's face as he pulled the old vehicle into the driveway of his secluded bungalow. The initial phone call to Feliciano would be incredibly awkward and he would most likely be irritated because of their lack of interaction in the past month. Needless to say, he was dreading this, but if a night out would help him forget Antonio, then it would have to be done.

The heavy torrents rain had let up some but were still steadily falling on the Italian's back as he exited the car and walked up the stone steps of his abode. He never looked at his house for the sight of it would make his slight case of OCD go insane. The light chestnut paint was coming off in large strips, revealing rotted wood underneath from the large amounts of rain received in the past few years. Weeds littered the front yard and only added to the abandoned haunted house sensation given off by the structure. Everything about the house screamed neglect, however Lovino didn't have to time nor the want to waste his precious writing schedule on cleaning up, and so the house remained as it was: overrun with foliage while the woodwork was well on its way to collapsing.

A half-amused snort escaped Lovino's lips as he fumbled around in his pockets before latching onto the metal key that would open the old-style front door. After placing the key into the lock, the barrier opened with a click and swung inward to reveal a dark house that was as cold as the autumn air outside.

Lovino softly cursed himself for not turning the heat on before he left as he stepped inside, rubbing his hands together for warmth. Should he turn it on now? Would it even be worth it since he was planning on leaving soon anyways?

Deciding against it, the author bounded up the dark oak staircase on the right, curl bobbing up and down with every step he took. The only room that was located on the second story was his bedroom. It was small and cozy and in the style of an attic loft, complete with a sloped roof and small square footage. Yet, these reasons were exactly what made this Lovino's second favorite room after the writing room.

The walls were paneled in the same dark wood that was in the downstairs hallway but didn't give off a gloomy effect or make it feel enclosed. In fact, it added to the serenity. A short strand of white Christmas lights was taped to the adjacent wall since the bedside lamp had burned out many months ago. Lovino had never gotten around to replacing the bulb. An intricate patchwork quilt was neatly tucked into the bed that sat in the far right corner of the room. The tomato pattern of the material was one of the only sources of colour in the room and if someone entered for the first time, their eye was immediately drawn to this masterpiece of cloth.

Yet, hardly anyone ever got to see the quilt for the reclusive author never brought anyone up. Just like the writing room, the loft was his personal space where he could retreat to when the activity of daily life became too much to handle. The only person, besides himself, to go up there was Feliciano.

For now, the small space was bathed in shadows while Lovino quickly changed out of his damp sweater and threw on a blue plaid flannel that paired nicely with the dark wash jeans he was already wearing. Footsteps reverberated throughout the empty bungalow as he walked down the stairs and into the living room, making sure he didn't look at the mess he'd created in the writing room.

Lovino collapsed into one of the dark-green stuffed recliners with a content sigh. It felt good to finally sit down and rest after such a hectic day. If he would've known how this week was going to turn out, he'd have taken some medication to help deal with the stress of it all. It was bad enough being ensnared by writer's block for so long, but then to top it off, Antonio crashed into the picture and steamrolled the last couple of days with erratic heartbeats and thoughts of love.

The author firmly shook his head as he retrieved the cell phone in his jeans pocket. He couldn't spare another thought about that bastard and he promised himself he wouldn't worry about it a second longer. He needed to call Feliciano before a similar thought invaded his mind.

Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring-

"Ve?" the smooth voice on the other end answered drowsily.

"Hey, Feli. It's Lovino," he replied, biting his plump bottom lip. There was thumping on the other line as Feliciano moved around, presumably getting out of bed by the sound of his sleep-laden tone.

"Lovino? Is something wrong?" his brother warily questioned. Lovino sighed. He knew this was going to be difficult.

"I… erm… I was going to see if you wanted to hang out? You know, hit up a club and grab a drink or…" he dumbly trailed off before he could make a bigger idiot out of himself. A singular laugh rang out from Feliciano.

"I don't know, Lovi. Wasn't it just yesterday that you threatened my existence with cops? I don't want to have Ludwig come bail me out of jail."

"Look, okay, I know that and I'm really sorry. It's just been a stressful week and I need to get out of this house before I do something stupid like burn it down," Lovino said in one breath, trying not to show his irritation at the mention of his brother's German best friend. He could picture Feliciano raising a quizzical eyebrow wherever he was at the moment.

"And what if I said no?" Feliciano responded after a moment's pause.

"Then I guess you'll see an article in the morning paper about how the flames were over two stories tall," the author stated in a deadpan voice. There was a sigh on the other end signaling that his friend was moving again.

"Please don't do that, Lovi, even though I know you never would," Feliciano chuckled, "Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be over."

"Thanks Feli," Lovino smiled before closing the flip phone and settling into the comfortable recliner. Knowing his brother, it would be a lot longer than fifteen minutes until he showed up.

However, as the grandfather clock in the living room echoed out eight pm, exactly fifteen minutes since their phone call, the doorbell rang announcing Feliciano's presence at his door. With a bit of a grin quirked on his lips, Lovino all but ran to the door, flung it open, and showered his unsuspecting brother with a tight bear hug. The smaller boy yelped in protest and wriggled under the grasp.

"Lovi, what are you doing? Why are you hugging me?" he gasped as the author finally released his grip and air came whooshing back into his brother's lungs. Lovino nonchalantly shrugged.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he responded sheepishly, "I've missed you." Feliciano widened his eyes before stepping behind the brunette and shoving him in the direction of the midnight blue Mini Cooper parked in the narrow gravel driveway.

"We really need to get you to a bar and fast. I'm not sure what's wrong with your brain but I fully intend on fixing it. I told you that you'd go insane from keeping yourself locked up for so long."

"I'm not insane," Lovino rolled his eyes, stooping down to scrunch his lanky frame inside of the miniature automobile. The tiny vehicle bounced as Feliciano ungracefully plopped into the car and started it. Mumbling something about 'whatever you say but I still think you're crazy', he reversed out of the driveway and headed in the direction of the club.

The party was in already in full swing by the time Feliciano and Lovino arrived despite the time only being eight o'clock at night. The Italian parked his car in the covered parking lot and they traipsed into the building after presenting their ID's to the bouncer.

Lights were flashing from the DJ's stage set up on the far left wall of the club causing the high-ceilinged room to appear as one giant, pulsating rainbow. A bouncy pop beat was streaming out of the enormous speakers interspersed throughout the dance floor. People were everywhere and, no, that was not just an exaggeration. Bodies could be found in every crevice of the building from the hundreds on the dance floor, to the drunks sitting at the bar, and the couples making out not so surreptitiously in a corner. There was even someone sitting on top of the wooden cabana above the bar.

Pounding bass notes reverberated into Lovino's bones, making it seem like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. The dancing crowd of people looked like a hungry beast waiting to snap its jaws on him at the first chance it got. He shuffled away from the monstrous sea of bodies, his breath already rapidly increasing, to a table to wait as Feliciano got drinks.

Situations like this made Lovino nervous. He wasn't a natural people person, so when placed into positions where there are several humans in one concentrated area he tended to freak out. He could already feel panic clawing it way up the back of his throat, searching for a release from the over-crowded atmosphere. It was like a caged rabid animal in his mind scrambling for a way out before it was consumed entirely.

Lovino had known this feeling before. The onset of a panic attack was near. Fortunately for him, though, after gulping in a few lungful's of air, the sensation went away and his attention returned to the golden-eyed man before him balancing six shots in his small hands.

"Hey, Lovi! No better way to get the party started than tequila shots! One of Ludwig's clients taught me that," Feliciano loudly announced, banging the glasses down on the small table closest to them, pale yellow liquid sloshing over the brim.

"Feli, how many of those have you had so far?" the young author wondered, eyeing his brother with suspicion. Carefree laughter rumbled in the brunette's chest.

"Just like one… or three. Yeah, something like that." Lovino shot his brother an exasperated glare to which he responded by lightly tapping the author's shoulder.

"Liven up, Lovi! Besides, you said yourself that you needed some time away from the world," Feliciano finished in a sing-songy tone, grabbing the first of his three shots and throwing it back with ease.

"That German bastard is a terrible influence on you," Lovino grumbled, scanning his intense hazel eyes around the lively surroundings, "I just wanted to get out, not shoot back tequila in some seedy night-club." Feliciano snorted as he rose up his second and third shots and swallowed them one right after the other.

"Part of getting out_ is_ getting drunk at a random nightclub. Tonight it's you and me, Lovi. Taking on the world together. Just soak in the experience and enjoy it!"

"I hate this experience," Lovino grumbled as he collapsed into one of the fold up chairs at their tiny table.

Of course, he'd humor Feliciano and go along with whatever crazy shenanigans he planned on getting up to tonight. He always did, but his no-drinking policy wasn't changing simply because his brother suggested that he "soak in the experience". If he let a single drop of that deadly juice pass his careful lips he would never forgive himself. Despite everyone's tries to get him drunk, the author remained steadfast in his ways; for, after all, past memories of a painful time could not be easily forgotten.

"Don't be such a party pooper," Feliciano joked, sticking his tongue out. After Lovino sent a deadly stare in his direction, he held up his palms in a peace gesture and let the subject drop.

A bouncy pop beat courtesy of Katy Perry was currently permeating the club. The dance floor was drenched in muted neon laser lights and the stench of stale beer clung to everything and everyone. A general sense of craziness hung in the air, seemingly affecting everyone just by simply being in a 100 yard radius. Everyone except Lovino, that is.

The author felt like a fish out of water as he sat watching the bodies press against each other in time to the beat of the catchy song. His hair fell dejectedly into his face but he didn't bother with pushing it back. Watching humans dance made him so physically sick that his complexion was turning a pale green. The filthy way people rubbed against each other made the author want to run home to his books and spend the night reading about a tale of actual romance instead of viewing these disturbing misconceptions of love.

The Katy Perry song faded out and the DJ took to the microphone, still clutching his headphones close to his ears.

"Alright, alright, alright! That was Katy Perry with Last Friday Night," his peppy voice rang out, piercing Lovino's eardrums and causing him to wince, "Now its time for a little boyband action. That's right, it's The Bad Touch Trio with Take Me Away! This is DJ Sadiq and you're partying here at the Empire Night Club."

Shouts of 'YOLO' were emitted from the dancing crowd while the first notes of a keyboard riff floated out of the speakers. Lovino groaned, pressing the heels of his hands into his tired eyes. As if the night couldn't have gotten much worse and now one of Antonio's songs was being played. What had he done to deserve this torture? Why had he ever even wanted to go out in the first place?

Suddenly, a commotion broke out over to his right and he momentarily disregarded his bad luck to see what was happening. As he wearily lifted his head from its drooping position, he could see that two men had joined his and Feliciano's group. The blonde one in the hot pink miniskirt was trying to fist pump his brother while the timid looking brunette stood shyly off to the side.

"Feliciano! I, like, haven't seen you around here in ages," the blonde said in an annoying valley-girl accent. That elicited a semi-innocent shrug from the boy in question.

"I haven't been here in a while since Lovino doesn't like to go out much," Feliciano admitted, pointing to Lovino. The author raised his eyebrows in a dissatisfactory acknowledgement. The blonde gave a hearty laugh not even realizing his irritation, which made the author wrinkle his nose in absolute disgust.

"Dude you've totally got to get on the dance floor. It's, like, wicked out there tonight!"

"I don't know, Feliks," Feliciano started to decline the offer, "I promised Lovi this would our night out together."

"What are you, like, his boyfriend?" the blonde smirked and Lovino rolled his golden orbs and said, "You go have fun with them. I'll be fine here."

"Lovi, are you sure? I know how you get when you're alone in large crowds," Feliciano replied already taking steps away from the table. His amount of concern was heart-warming. Really.

"Positive. Just go," Lovino managed to say with an unconvincing smile, but his brother was already running off with the ridiculous boys, fist pumping to the beat.

Lovino scratched the back of his neck, feeling beads of sweat from the stuffy indoor air. Obviously, he didn't want to be left on his own when all he really wanted to do was spend quality time with his brother and get away from life, but he knew he was horribly boring and Feliciano deserved some fun too. Besides, there was plenty to do until his brother came back. He could people watch or make origami with the napkins or listen to the incredibly catchy song blaring out of the speakers…

With a start, he realized that it was still The Bad Touch Trio's over-played hit single still playing and immediately stopped nodding his head along to the drums. Unfortunately, it seemed as though Lovino simply could not escape the green-eyed pop star despite his desperate attempts. Even though he tried to deny it, Antonio's smooth vocals singing a tune about partying until dawn were so alluring that it sent him into a rage. All of a sudden, those three untouched tequila shots were looking quite delicious.

Without thinking, the brunette snatched up one of the cool glass vials and recklessly threw it back, savoring the burning sensation of alcohol trickling down the back of his throat. His thin hand reached out to grab the second but then paused. For a moment, he considered the stupidity of his idea and wondered if he should just hail a taxi home. It would have been the more Lovino-esque thing to do; however, nothing about the past week was exactly 'Lovino-esque'.

So perhaps that is why the author drank the two remaining shots and followed those by three more that he bought, effectively drowning the nagging voice in the back of his mind.

The club was now spinning precariously in his inebriated vision and the dancing colours appeared infinitely more inviting than they had at first. Giggling to himself at how crazy this was, Lovino stood up from the table and shakily walked over to the dance floor. By now the song had changed from The Bad Touch Trio's single to another indeterminate pop tune, but that was okay because for some reason, all he wanted to do was dance.

For a while, he flailed around by himself not having a care in the world and letting loose for the first time in, well, forever. The lively music flowed through his bones, inspiring his long limbs to move about in time with the tune. It was funny how the author could be the most reclusive of people, but the second alcohol began swimming through his veins he became the best dancer the world has ever seen. In his mind, at least.

As time passed, though, many girls made their way over to the mysterious man with the lone curl dancing by himself. For some reason, most women could not resist the allure of someone mysterious, dark, and handsome. In normal circumstances, Lovino would have shied away from the attention, a bright blush blooming on his dimpled cheeks. Yet, his newfound confidence told him to stay with the girls. Besides, all they wanted was a dance right?

After noticing the buzz of the tequila was slowly fading, Lovino snatched another shot from a worker meandering the dance floor with a tray of light up glasses. By now, his mind was so far gone that he couldn't determine what type of liquor it was but, nonetheless, the familiar burn calmed him the second it hit his mouth. Wiping away the layer of sweat on his forehead that had formed from the crowd, the author trained his glazed eyes on the two girls currently vying for his attention.

Lovino smoothly snaked an arm around the curvy blonde on his right, pressing their writhing bodies together in a tight embrace. At his touch, she flashed him a devilish smile and began to gyrate faster on his hipbone. As the desperate girl tried to please him with her filthy dancing, he could feel his heart rate speed up like someone floored the gas pedal to his heart. Granted, this was nothing like how he felt around Antonio, for that emotion was true and this was a frenzied attempt at a one night fling, but he enjoyed the high it gave him anyways, even if it was just the adrenaline talking.

Lovino threw his head back, the soaked strands of hair flying around of his flushed face, and laughed somewhat manically. In this moment, he was completely alive in all senses of the word and nothing, especially not a mass-produced pop star, could bring him down. As far as he was concerned, he had jumped off of the precipice of the world, the wind rushing through his hair, and was freefalling through the exhilaration of life.

"Hey handsome," the girl he'd been dancing with spoke for the first time, "You're pretty great at this dancing thing." Oblivious to the obvious crack at flirting, Lovino replied.

"I'm not that good. I just follow whatever the music tells my body to do, if that makes any sense," he slurred, not quite focusing on the subject.

"Well I think you look sexy," she purred, leaving a light kiss on author's tanned collarbone, goose bumps bubbling up in its wake. A shiver shuddered through Lovino's body and his immediate instinct was to shy away from the touch. He wasn't exactly the most affectionate of people and being drunk was no exception.

"Aw, babe, don't be that way," the curvy girl cooed, entwining a fake-tanned hand in Lovino's dark hair, "I don't bite… much."

With a not-so-subtle wink, she took his hand and led him over to a shadowy corner where their lips crashed together. Nothing about the kiss felt right. It was simply a pretense, an easy escape from their troubles for a bit. The author wasn't so much of a recluse that he hadn't had his first kiss yet, but this one was in the first ten and, had he been sober, it never would have occurred.

Their mouths pummeled into each other, wildly grasping for a connection even if it was fake. The blonde whispered softly into Lovino's ear and he placed his hands on her voluptuous hips, robotically going through the motions. Laughing giddily, she yanked on a strand of his hair to pull his head back and deepen the kiss.

The action had a reverse effect though and Lovino instantly froze, his eyes flying wide open and mind transported to a different place. All around him he could hear screams and the tearing of metal over the distant ringing in his ears. There was a sharp pain on the crown of his head. Everything was so bright. Bright and loud and confusing. What was going on? What was happening?

"_Lovino! Lovi, are you ok? Your head is bleeding," a terrified voice cried out._

"_Lovino, talk to us please. We need to make sure you're ok," cried someone in deep male tones._

_And that's when he saw her. She was crumpled up in the passenger seat of the bashed in car, covered in blood, and had a large gash on her temple that was bleeding profusely. In the distance, he could hear the ambulance sirens rushing to the rescue but he knew they were already too late._

"_Mom!" he wailed, his high-pitched tones piercing the atmosphere, "No, mom, please! I need you! Don't leave me, mommy!"_

"_Lovino, we need to get you out of the car. There's nothing you can do for her. If she can be saved, the ambulances are right here," the male voice spoke again._

"_Mommy! No!"_

With a jolt, Lovino was catapulted out of the flashback and back into reality where the blonde was working her revolting lips up his collarbone.

"Stop," the author whispered, closing his eyes to prevent the room from spinning out of control. The girl simply chuckled sensually and pursued her attacks.

"Oh, you liked that huh? You want some more?" Lovino felt another tug on his hair and that was enough to make him snap. With a growl, he shoved her off of him and she smashed into the opposite wall.

"I said stop!"

The girl's expression quickly shifted to horror and she swiped a hand across her lips.

"What is wrong with you?" she whimpered, already slinking away, "You are such a freak. Just stay away from me." And with that said, she slipped into the convulsing mass of colors and bodies still occupying the dance floor.

Lovino raised a hand to his throbbing head. He could already tell that he was in store for a wicked hangover tomorrow and reliving that painful memory didn't help in the least. As he squeezed his eyes shut, he realized just how stupid he'd been to let himself get this out of control. All of the stress and misery of the week flooded back and a weight that was even heavier than before settled onto his shoulders.

It was time to stop taking the coward's way out of things and face up to his problems. Besides, this wasn't who he was anyways. He needed to find Feliciano and go home so he could sort out his puzzled and somewhat still drunk thoughts in silence.

"Feli? Feli, where are you?" Lovino called out with his hands cupped around his mouth. He was walking through the jostling crowd, attempting to manage a feat similar to finding a needle in a haystack. He knew it was practically impossible to find his brother in this mess just by calling out his name, but he had to start somewhere.

"Feliciano, I know you're out there somewhere. I'll find ya one of these days," he slurred after running into a particularly scary looking fellow. Suddenly, his chest collided with something and he swung his gaze up only to be met with half-lidded golden orbs.

"Lovi! I can't believe I ran into you," Feliciano cooed to no one in particular. It seemed as though the effeminate blonde and his shy crony had left him high and dry a long time ago, "Where've you been off to? Seducing the ladies no doubt."

"Feli, we need to go. Now," Lovino told him, taking both of the other man's shoulders in his hands. The Italian shrugged them off and went back to his sad stab at dancing, which involved him wriggling side to side in a very awkward manner.

"No! Can you see I'm dancing, Lovi?"

"We are leaving this place now and I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

"Stop be so sour-…"

"I'm not being sour! I had a flashb-… a fl-" Lovino stopped his words, deciding against telling Feliciano what happened in the corner. He was too drunk to understand anyways, "Feli, are you even listening to me?"

The lad in question was indeed zoned out of the world, bobbing his curl along to the music. Typical Feliciano. The author needed to get him to pay attention, but how? There were only a few ways to make a drunk focus and the only method that would be possible right now was…

A grimace etched itself onto Lovino's mouth knowing what he was about to do, but unfortunately for his unsuspecting brother, it needed to be done. The brunette cocked back his arm, used the other hand to steady the target, and threw a moderate punch that snapped Feliciano's head back. He immediately raised a hand to nurse his already bruising cheek and gave Lovino and incredulous look.

"What was that for?" Feliciano whined. Lovino caught the golden eyes with his own, commanding all of his attention.

"We are going to go home now and… No, listen to me," Lovino barked, grabbing Feliciano's chin and holding it in place when he started to protest, "I know this whole night-out thing was my idea but I'm tired and angry. I just want to go home and, so help me God, if you don't give me the keys to the car right now I will punch you again."

For a moment, Feliciano studied him with wary eyes probably to make sure that Lovino wasn't completely insane. When the author didn't let up his glare, his brother's stubbornness shattered and he dug around in his pocket for the keys.

"Fine Lovi, you win," he sighed, handing over the fob. Lovino took it from his brother with a grin and steered them out of the sea of people. If he never partied again, he would not be missing out on anything. This club would certainly not be missed.

For a second, Lovino debated whether or not he had sobered up enough to drive once they had made it safely out of the building and to the parking garage. The answer was probably not, but at this point he didn't care. All he wanted was to escape the madness that the evening had turned to be. So after shoving an almost passed out Feliciano into the passenger seat of the Mini Cooper, Lovino turned the key in the ignition and sped out of the covered lot to firstly drop off his brother and then return to the safety of his home.

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So yea, we get to see a flash into Lovi's past and lets just say that its not a good one... then again his present isn't much better so... I'm so sorry I'm taking so long to get Toni and Lovi together but there's a reason for that! Give it a couple more chapters and then you'll get some action I promise :) Rate/review/etc! I'll shower you with undying affection ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Wow I'm so sorry it's been so long since my last update. You can thank school being a bitch for that. I'll try to update every two weeks, but don't hold me to that because this semester is killer and I barely have time to live let alone write fanfiction. On that note though, thank you all so much for the great response to this! Gosh it makes me so happy ^_^ I also am changing the rating of this because I've dropped way more than one f-bomb and for potential future sexy times. Anywho, enjoy loves :)

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The lights in Lovino's lonely house were too bright for his eyes to handle as he stumbled over the threshold after flicking on the light switch near the door. His head was still spinning slightly from the countless shots he'd taken at the club and he knew that a devilish hangover the next morning was inevitable. A stack of books toppled to floor as the author bumped into them, unsteadily making his way to plop down on the old, worn down couch in the rarely used television room.

The couch reminded him of earlier times and happier memories as he buried his head into one of the cushions. He inhaled the familiar musty smell and, for a moment, the world was all right. Gone were the feelings of mistrust and hatred for his own species. Gone was the arrogant façade he portrayed in order to protect his heart from the monstrosities of society. In their place, was a broken twenty-two year old who, if he imagined hard enough, could still feel those protective arms encasing his trembling frame as soothing words were whispered into his ear.

As soon as the peaceful feeling came, though, it left even quicker and Lovino was left in his small but cavernous bungalow with no one to wrap his or her arms around him or to tell him that everything will be all right. He had confined himself to a solitary life and was paying the price as every silent second ticked by and broke his heart even further. The ornate wall clock glared down at him in the fetal position he now laid, jeering at his pathetic self.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The whirrs and clicks of the device reverberated throughout the empty room, echoing off every wall and creating a maddening sound. Lovino flung up his frail hands to cover his ear in an attempt to drown out the painful noise but to no avail. The clicks vibrated into his very being, jarring his soul and clanking through his scattered brain. Not even in his solitude could he be truly alone. Finally, the clock became too much to handle and he swiftly rose from the couch, tore the devilish mechanism from it's place on the elaborately papered wall, and flung it across the room.

It hit with a resounding crash and the curling spirals of glass shattered on impact. Gears sprung free from the inside making it appear as though it were a gutted animal. Ticks and tocks were still being emitted from the eviscerated clock; however, they became less frequent and more demented as time quickly passed.

Lovino paused to collect his thoughts and take in the destruction he had wrought upon his home. First, he had the outburst that wrecked his painstakingly organized study and now his troubled mind had created the mess of a clock that was still petering out feeble sounds. Everything about his life screamed despair and desolation but there was nothing the reclusive author could do about it. He had chosen this life and now he was suffering the fallout of it. Not even Feliciano could save him from the ruin he'd become.

Perhaps, it was better, though, that he'd decided on a lonely life, Lovino mused as he fell back onto the couch with a defeated sigh. There was no one around that he could harm with his hateful ways. No one there to witness the insanity of seclusion invade his once steady mind. After all, humans were judging creatures and one look at the damaged author would be enough to create enough headlines to power the newspapers for weeks.

No, it was undoubtedly better to hide himself away from the vindictive beasts of this world.

The sharp trills of the telephone in the kitchen shattered Lovino's despairing thoughts and he hefted himself up from the seat. The rings continued to blare as he lumbered into the other room and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" he breathlessly answered, a few dark strands flopping into his eyes. He swatted them away as the harsh voice on the other end bellowed out words of rage.

"Vargas? What the hell have you been doing? I haven't heard from you in months. You could dead for all I know and a dead author does not bring in the money I need." Lovino winced as the loud torrent of anger left the other person's mouth and stung his ear. He knew exactly who the voice belonged to and had been dreading this call for a long time. It was none other than his publisher Mr. Arthur Kirkland. He could almost picture the steam erupting from the man's reddening ears as his anger towards the author escalated. No doubt, he was sitting behind his stylish glass desk, feet propped up on the bottom drawer, and rubbing a hand over his unusually large eyebrows in frustration.

"Hi Arthur," Lovino sheepishly greeted, scrunching up his tired eyes and leaning back onto the kitchen counter.

" 'Hi Arthur'?" his boss fumed, though his tone had lost much of its original ferocity "I haven't heard from you in months and all you can say is 'Hi Arthur'? Lovino, you have some major explaining to do or this agency is dropping you faster than a hot stone. Start talking."

"I've been writing, I promise," the author retorted and it technically wasn't a lie, "There have been some… things in my life that required more attention. They're gone now though and I can devote all my time to finishing a first draft."

"You mean to tell me that you have had three months to… wait a minute, are you drunk?" Lovino quickly smacked a hand over his mouth as if Arthur could actually smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Uh…no?"

"Don't lie to me!" Arthur yelled, "You're drunk. You haven't been in contact with your agency in months and you're drunk. I absolutely cannot believe this, Lovino. I just can't understand what is going on with you right now. When is the last time you've eaten a proper meal?"

"Erm-"

"Good God, you're a mess," Arthur condescendingly seethed.

"I know," was Lovino's quiet answer. A heavy sigh escaped the lips of his now-livid publisher and he could hear him switching positions in his overstuffed office chair.

"Despite your apparent lack of care for yourself, how is everything with the story? How much do you have finished?" Arthur probed in a weary tone. At his question, Lovino's heart sank. He knew this question was coming and had been terrified to provide the answer. On one hand, he could lie about his progress but then again, Arthur always seemed to know when he was lying. It was one of his horrible gifts. The author decided that while the truth might cause the third World War, it was the safer option.

"One," he admitted, drumming his fingers on the granite in anticipation.

"One what?" the publisher demanded with exasperation, "One chapter? Section? Part?"

"One page."

"One page?!" Arthur roared, the sound of his fist slamming down on the desk reverberating into the phone, "What the hell have you been doing with your time, Vargas? This is not acceptable and if you weren't a best selling author I would drop your arse from this agency right here and now. But seeing as you are, I'm going to be kind. You have one week to finish the first draft and have a copy in my hands by Friday morning at eight o'clock sharp."

"A week?" Lovino yelped, his golden eyes widening in disbelief, "Sir, I don't see how I can possibly write a full length novel in only seven days."

"I don't want any excuses," Arthur quipped, cutting the author short, "Maybe you should have thought about that when you were slacking off on your work. Friday morning, eight o'clock, rough draft finished, or the agency is dropping you. Do I make myself clear?" Espresso coloured tendrils of hair dejectedly fell into his face as the author glumly nodded, resigned to his fate.

"Yes sir, crystal clear."

"Perfect. Oh and Vargas?"

"Yes sir?"

"Please, for your sake, try to get your life back on track," Arthur instructed with as much compassion as the businessman could muster.

"Will do, Mr. Kirkland," Lovino grinned as he heard the hurried grumble and click that meant his boss had disconnected.

Despite Arthur's strict personality and cutthroat policies, he truly was a kind man deep down. Of all the bigwig publishers in the world, Lovino knew he had been quite lucky with the one who decided to take him on. They knew he was a reclusive introvert who couldn't get along with most people, yet they had seen potential in him and given him a chance. The least he could do to thank them for that opportunity was to buckle down and write the story he'd been avoiding for so long.

However, Hungary and Austria could wait until morning. Although the genius plan to go clubbing hadn't exactly gone as planned, tonight was still about putting his past and Antonio out of his mind. And besides, how else would the story get written if he didn't take the evening to relax and recuperate? He had practically earned time off after what his poor heart had gone through in the past week and the worn in couch looked so comfortable.

With purposeful strides, Lovino made his way back into the television room, grabbed the remote, and switched on the ancient television set. He knew that wasting one more night was not a good idea considering he had only a week to churn out sixty thousand words, but wasn't his mental state more important right now? Arthur had even said that he wanted Lovino to get his life back on track. Taking one more night to do whatever he pleased would only help in forgetting all about this train wreck he'd inadvertently caused.

The squishy cushions were sagging in protest despite Lovino's extremely thin frame as he stretched out his feet and laid his head on one of the armrests. A soft hum filled the room as the television blinked to life, displaying a slightly static picture on the screen.

"Damn T.V.," the author muttered, glancing down at the remote to turn up the volume, "Never has worked right."

" _-been waiting all night for them and here they are! Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the boyband that is taking the world by a storm: The Bad Touch Trio!" _

Lovino's breath hitched in his throat as what the announcer had spoken. A deep frown settled onto his face, creasing the normally flawless skin. He dared to look up at the screen, not wanting to believe what he'd just heard.

"No, there's no way," he furiously whispered as the three gorgeous men took to the Saturday Night Live stage, "I only turned on the fucking T.V.! How is it even possible that I would've stumbled across him?"

But his own eyes told him that it was indeed possible and very real. There on the screen looking him right in the eye through the glass and pixels was none other than Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Lovino had to admit, he looked stunning. His silky brown hair radiantly glowed and when the cameraman zoomed in, the light reflected off of his green eyes making them appear as precious emerald jewels. The outfits chosen for the trio were loud and obnoxiously neon but for some reason they only accented Antonio's sheer beauty.

As The Bad Touch Trio launched into one of their pop ballads, the author's golden eyes glazed over and he became lost in thought. For whatever reason, Antonio kept popping into his life. Every time he'd tried to forget him, the universe found a way for Antonio to worm himself back into his lonely life.

Lovino rubbed the bridge of his nose and trained his sights back on the television. By now, he had given up trying to forget about the singer. Antonio's constant magazine articles coupled with his ultra-successful band made it next to impossible to go a day without seeing something related to him. In fact, though, it was easier to finally admit to himself that he couldn't just forget. By doing this, Lovino was in fact moving on and letting go of whom he'd once thought was his soul mate. Anyways, he wouldn't be talking to Antonio ever again even if he did happen to see him. Their fall out at the coffee shop was just the clean break he needed.

"_Thank you so much ladies and gentlemen for letting us perform here tonight!" _Antonio's smooth voice recaptured Lovino's attention, drawing his mind toward his effervescent tones. "_This next song is a bit slower than our normal ones but its one of our favourites because it has so much meaning behind it. Again, we are The Bad Touch Trio and this is Invisible Man._

_**How can I love when you're breaking my heart?**_

_** You can't expect me to not be torn apart**_

_** I know you said this is temporary**_

_** But every day I grow more wary**_

The lyrics of the song floated into the author's tingling ears, flooding his every emotion. Each low note rumbled through his bones and the high notes sent his heart soaring. Antonio had taken the lead vocals as he did on almost every Bad Touch Trio song. It was no wonder as to why their management chose him to be the spokesperson. Not only was he entrancingly beautiful and his voice could sing circles around anyone in the industry, but his presence also radiated the authenticity of a leader.

_**I'll never give up, I'll never back down**_

_** I'll try to pretend that I'm fine**_

_** But it rips me to shred when you're not around**_

_** I wish I could say that you're mine**_

Tremors ran down Lovino's spine, utterly transfixed on the stunning sight on the screen. His heart skipped a beat with every rasp and break of Antonio's sweeping tenor. Crinkles appeared around the corner of her half-lidded eyes as the emotion flowed from his rosy lips in the form of dancing melody. In that moment, the rest of the world blurred into nothing and it was as though the man in the television was singing directly to him. The brunette curls that encapsulated the singer's flawless face served as a soft blanket of comfort and the haunting song was a cup of tea warming his insides. Antonio's singing broke off with an intake of air and his two other band mates joined in for the chorus.

_**Invisible man, where have you been?**_

_** I've waited up every night**_

_** Invisible man, where did you go**_

_** When you ran out of my life**_

_** Heart is broken, left unspoken**_

_** Words I've wrote are just a token**_

_** Hands are shaking, voices quaking**_

_** How can you not see me waiting?**_

_** Perhaps I am invisible**_

_** To you**_

The song continued on until it swelled to a stop. The Bad Touch Trio thanked their audience for watching the show and supporting them through everything. After a few funny comments about life in general, the men exited the stage no doubt to be whisked away to a wild after party. By the time a few minutes had passed, everyone had forgotten about their performance. Everyone except Lovino.

The author remained in the same spot he'd previously been in, one hand twirling mindlessly through his coffee coloured locks. On the outside, it looked as if he'd had a peaceful evening of relaxation but on the inside his mind was raging torrent of thoughts. Identical to the previous week, they were centered on Antonio.

He had never heard such sincerity come out of a mouth in such a way that it rivaled his own beliefs. Yes, he had fallen head over heels for the singer but it had only been at the level of physical attraction. Not once had he attributed the potential of genuine feeling to a member of a pop trio. It was darkly ironic seeing as the lack of meaningfulness was the reason he'd become so angry with him in the first place. However, he'd proven to him that he had a heart and could display it in front of the entire world, which is more than could be said about the secluded author.

That was okay, though, Lovino realized as he rolled off the couch and lumbered into the kitchen to heat up a much-needed cup of peppermint tea. It was perfect in fact. Antonio's newly discovered sincerity didn't send him spinning into a whirlwind of schoolboy emotions like their first encounter at the television studios. This time, it restored his faith in people so much that it gave him the extra motivation needed to kick start his life from the shambles it currently was.

Don't get him wrong; the singer was still the most gorgeous man he'd ever laid eyes on. The way his dark eyelashes rested against the warm tan of his cheeks made butterflies erupt in his stomach, but he wasn't going to go off the deep end with obsession. No, this time Antonio was a symbol that not every book can be judged by its cover. For an author, this was a pretty important lesson and one that he should have learned long ago.

The main chunk of Lovino's week had been focused solely on another human being. Because of this, he had been let down so much that it invaded his psych and ruined his outlook on life. Yet, tonight, after one of the worst outings of his life, he just happened to turn on the T.V. to a performance of The Bad Touch Trio's most soulful song. It was either a sign from the universe or sheer luck. He liked to think it was the former. Whatever it was, though, it had reminded him that while some people can redeem themselves, not everyone is as trustworthy as Antonio. He now saw that letting his guard down in for the possibility of a love had been the biggest mistake of his life and one that he would never make again.

A satisfied grin graced played across the author's's lips. He lifted the mug of tea from the microwave and cradled in in his hands, grateful to feel the warmth against bare skin. He sleepily ambled up the stairs before collapsing onto his bed and opening the lid of the laptop that was on his cluttered nightstand. While taking a sip of the savoury mint drink, his fingers keyed in two words: _Chapter Two_.

Those words were enough to ignite the fire that he had been missing for so long. The inspiration that burned within made him feel more powerful than he ever had before. All of his walls were back in place and fortified stronger. This time he would not let people play with his trust. This time he was his own master. Lovino Vargas was officially back in business.

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I'm sorry if there's any mistakes. I was rushing to get this out. This is the last chapter I had mostly prewritten so the next might take a while longer to get out. But yea, review, follow, favorite if you like it! Thanks for reading you awesome people :D


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